Mentalist Episode Tag: My Blue Heaven, 6x9
by Donnamour1969
Summary: Post episode tag. Lisbon encourages Jane to take the deal. Spoilers, 6x9. Mild language. Friendship/humor/touch of Jisbon.


A/N: First let me say, I was wrong. I had every intention of hating a post-Red John world, especially with the annoying lack of closure on so many things concerning the serial killer. But, how can a true lover of Jane be mad now? That episode was beautiful! The music. The atmosphere. The acting. The directing. The STRONG hints of Jisbon now and yet to come. And all those Jane smiles and tan sexiness (or sexy tanness). Totally worth the two-year leap, at least for now. I will reserve judgment on how they manage to fit Jane and Lisbon into the FBI, but for now, I will bask in the glow of the best episode of the year so far. Who'd have thought? Those who tweet with me on Twitter are probably surprised at my turnaround. But what can I say? I'm a sucker for sexy, tan Jane and anything remotely Jisbon. Here's to more of that…

**Episode Tag: "My Blue Heaven", 6x9**

"Take the damn deal, Jane," said Lisbon, the moment they were alone.

Just as two of Abbot's men had come into the conference room to whisk Jane away to some detention suite—whatever the hell _that _was—Lisbon felt that old familiar wave of panic arise within her, speeding up her heart and dampening her palms.

"Wait!" she'd said, trying her best not to sound desperate. "Let me talk to him," she said to Abbot.

"Lisbon—" Jane began beside her. She didn't even look at him as she automatically put her hand up to shush him, her eyes pleading with Abbot. He regarded her dispassionately. The agent held all the cards; he could afford to be magnanimous.

"Okay," said Abbot with a shrug. "You've got ten minutes."

Without another word, Abbot and this Agent Fischer person took their things and left the room.

"I'm not taking the deal," Jane replied stubbornly. "I didn't give up my absolute freedom to come back and become an indentured servant for five years."

"What the hell did you expect? You murdered two people, Jane. Did you think you could beat the system again? Nobody's that lucky; not even you. Besides," she said, her voice going low with emotion. "You owe me."

Jane sat back in his chair, some of his tension of moments before draining away. "Aw," he said, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "You're gonna play that card, are you?"

"Yes," she said, unapologetically. "I didn't let my career go down the tubes, risk my life countless times, to let you stubbornly pass up the best deal you're ever going to get so you could rot in prison the rest of your life. You're damn right you owe me this. Now, you're going to do something for _me_ for a change and sign that damn paper."

Jane watched her a few moments, his eyes caressing her much adored and much missed face. When he had thought about Lisbon over the past two years, it had often been with the memory of her worked up in her convictions in just this way. She had no idea how adorable she was at these moments—small chin lifted obstinately, eyes flashing green fire, the crease between her eyebrows more pronounced. Of course, that expression usually had the opposite, undesired effect upon Jane. He would become more relaxed, more amused, even less likely to do what she asked. It was childish, he knew, but there it was, and some old habits really did die hard.

He held up his yellow napkin. "Abbot already signed a much better deal with me first , Lisbon, and I fully intend to pursue this. I'm willing to negotiate on a few things—it _is _hard to find that particular Airstream trailer, for example—but signing over my freedom to the Little Dictator is never going to happen."

Lisbon's eyes were drawn to the hurried black scrawl on the wrinkled napkin. "May I?" she asked.

Jane's momentary hesitation intrigued her all the more. "Look, Lisbon, we really don't have much time—"

She held out her hand, brooking no argument. He sighed and pushed the list across the table to her.

Her eyes alighted on the first article he'd written:

_Must work directly with Teresa Lisbon._

She looked up at him, vaguely startled and deeply touched. She said nothing, but he saw from her expression what it meant that she had been his first priority. His eyes softened, and he nodded. Then, he watched her closely as she scanned the list, enraptured by the range of emotions playing across her face, from surprise at his audacity (requesting a travel trailer!) to humor (tea available at all times?), to affection (a couch?).

"You've got to be kidding me," she said, but her eyes were sparkling at him. "Did you really think you were going to get all this stuff?"

"Abbot signed it, didn't he?"

She shook her head at him. "You realize now that he would have signed anything to get you back to the States, where he could submit his own terms, and then keep you stuck here."

"Well," he said sheepishly. "I admit that it only occurred to me while I was on the plane. I was a little anxious to get home, and well, I suppose I've let my guard down. Island living has a tendency to make you forget how the real world works." _Which was sort of the idea,_ he added to himself.

"I take it that's why you were fooled by Kim—I mean, _Agent Fischer_."

He shouldn't have been surprised that she'd figured out the gist of things so quickly. Kim had been sent to feel him out, to see if his state of mind might be open to an offer from the FBI. He _had _been out of touch, in more ways than one he supposed, to have been able to see Lorelei Martins's motives a mile away four years ago, but be recently drawn in by a strange woman at a beachside bar who vaguely resembled his wife.

He was too embarrassed now to comment on Kim Fischer for the moment. "This is a signed document," he said instead, "and now we have a witness—_you_—who heard Abbot admit to signing it down in South America. I figure, with your connections—"

She held up a hand. "Don't even go there. Any connections I used to have I lost after the CBI was disbanded, and everyone with any kind of power in California law enforcement became suspect. It was all over the news for months, Jane, my picture right alongside yours in some cases. No one trusts me anymore, even though I was cleared of everything. Why do you think I had to go to Washington State to find a job?"

"I'm sorry about that, Lisbon. Mea culpa."

"No, it's not. The blame rests with Red John and the Blake Association. You did what you had to do."

He stared hard at her a moment. _She really means this_.

He had often wondered how much she blamed him for the mess he'd left. He had written her many a letter detailing his feelings and his life (which he also hoped had eased her ire), but he had been denied hearing her side of the story. It would have been too dangerous for both of them were she to know his exact location. He had continued writing, because his carney family had said she seemed receptive to his letters, but they didn't know his address either, so couldn't have sent her replies. He assumed she had forgiven him—she always had before—but he had never dreamed she would have accepted that killing his family's murderer had been the right thing to do.

She reached out a tentative hand to touch his arm, looking deeply into the soulful green eyes she never thought she would see again. "I gave you my gun, remember?" she whispered. "I let you go that day—twice. I could have stopped you, turned you over to Abbot—"

"But you didn't," he finished, laying his warm hand atop hers. He swallowed a lump in his throat, realizing suddenly that even if he spent the rest of his life in a federal prison, his heart was now truly free, the last remnant of his self-doubt where his vengeance was concerned finally fading away. At last he knew that he had had her blessing, that while he'd done what he'd always planned to do, he no longer had to fear she judged him or resented him for his actions.

It really _was_ good to be understood.

"Thank you," he said simply.

"You're welcome." And she squeezed his forearm. "Now, what are we going to do about Abbot?"

"_We_?" he said, one eyebrow shooting up at the collective term.

"I'm here, aren't I?" she said in amused exasperation. "Once again, you've made your problems my problems."

But they both knew she would have literally crossed oceans to be with him had he called her, just as he had crossed two (okay, a sea and a gulf) to find her when he knew it was time to finally come home. Without her, he had been free, but he had also been rudderless, purposeless, and intensely alone.

"They wanted me here, Lisbon, badly enough to expend the resources to find me and get me back here. They don't want to prosecute me, given this deal they're offering, so someone upstairs thinks I'm valuable. I've got my own terms, and I don't think they're that unreasonable. I think I'm going to hold out a little longer."

She was suddenly afraid again. He was throwing away their second chance, and now that she had him back, now that she was seeing his dear face, hearing his smooth voice, she didn't know if she could bear to let him go again.

"Take the damn deal, Jane," she repeated softly. "Please?"

And then, he knew.

Everything he had been missing was right here, and suddenly, it didn't matter about the trailer, or the couch or the tea. He hadn't come back for those things, not really. He'd come back for the number one thing on his list.

_At last_, thought Jane in bemusement, _I've finally gotten my priorities straight._

**A/N: I'll leave it to canon to tell us whether or not he takes the deal, but I hope this filled in some of the blanks, or covered some of the things I hope they get to next week. **

**And, if you still need something to read, please check out my fics "Private Eyes" and "Double Talk." Thanks!**


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